


say the word and i'll give you the key

by valentinehoax



Category: NCT (Band), 威神V | WayV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, M/M, Take Off MV inspired, Trans Character, Update tags as I go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-15 05:42:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28933464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valentinehoax/pseuds/valentinehoax
Summary: Hendery is rich and spoiled, Dejun is the person who spills his coffee on Hendery's newly bought clothing. Fate brings them together.
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s), Wong Kun Hang | Hendery/Xiao De Jun | Xiao Jun
Comments: 8
Kudos: 62





	1. collision

When Hendery's father hit the jackpot in life by investing in the right company and taking the right job, a few things changed.

For one, Hendery at the age of nine first experienced what true wealth is. That's not to say he'd been poor growing up—his family were well-off, the kind where a _big bad decision_ would ruin their situation. Now, Hendery can make several of those dreaded _big bad decisions_ and suffer very little from it.

Second, Hendery learned how...distasteful other people were. Kids who were mean to him in school changed overnight, usually at the behest of their parents, and people who ignored the scrawny nine year old now beg for attention. Quite frankly, Hendery finds the sucking up to be unnecessary. If anything, he likes it when people seem to hate him, because at least that's not a fake emotion.

Lastly, and Hendery would argue more importantly, his life is boring. His father is rich, so that means he can't just get up and do what he wants at the drop of a hat; oh no, he has to get the security detail involved, and the servants, and a manager—he has a manager, for crying out loud. What nineteen year old has a manager, and how is he meant to have a social life if this is what his day-to-day schedule is?

But as he walks out of a high-end store with a staff member carrying his bags of stuff he'll wear once then forget about, Hendery thinks he likes being rich. This kind of carelessness, one he once believed would never be his lifestyle, is something only one percenters enjoy.

He more than likes it. He loves it.

He also loves being handsome. He knows it, because he knows his sisters are attractive; they have frequent suitors, much to their chagrin, more than a few with chauvinistic views. Hendery is always told he looks just like them; the four of them are pretty. They're attractive.

Arguably, Hendery muses as he waltzes into another store he frequents, he's the most shallow of the four. He spends an enormous portion of his allowance on his clothes, on his skincare, on make-up; he poses for the camera and the people around him at any chance; he's even taken up modelling contracts his sisters turned down. Not for the pay, but because he likes reading comments on the posts of him praising his looks. That's why he keeps his own instagram profile. So he can access that praise at a single flick of his finger.

Well, he realises, there's not really anything to argue. But that's about where his self-love ends, anyway. Not that it matters. All you need in life is a good face and a large wallet, which he has in bountiful supply.

He bumps into someone as he's walking, knocking into them. Like a cliche romcom, he ends up with coffee spilling on his clothes. Worse, it's not even the ones he's wearing, it's the one his staff are holding, the contents of the cup pouring into a bag that Hendery had just bought.

Hendery's not angry. Of course he's not. But it's still disappointing to think he'll never get a chance to wear them, and he has to go back and buy new ones.

The person who bumped into him, a shorter man with sharp features, began babbling apologies as Hendery looks at the damage sadly.

"I'll make it up, I'm so sorry," he's saying when Hendery sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. Hendery's entourage of staff don't react to the situation, leaving it to Hendery to deal with. Probably because they know Hendery isn't some insane rich kid—but the poor man who's still babbling doesn't.

"It's fine," Hendery interrupts. "I know you won't be able to make up the amount you just ruined monetarily." Hendery makes this judgement based off the work uniform the man is wearing. To Hendery, what he said is perfectly reasonable. He's being benevolent, if anything. But the man looks mildly irritated, making Hendery pause and consider his words. He finds nothing offensive, so he shrugs it off.

What he had said to irritate the other fades as the man examines Hendery’s attire. 

"If you want to pay me back, how about carrying my bags?" Hendery asks. The man hesitates, since Hendery isn't holding anything. Then a staff member comes near the man and holds out a few bags. The man takes it. Hendery then approaches, grabs the man by the elbow, and guides him into walking alongside Hendery.

"What's your name?" The man isn't wearing a name badge.

"Dejun," he says, eyeing Hendery's hand on his elbow. Hendery releases him with a smile.

"We're going to the store we bought the clothes you ruined from," Hendery says with a cheerful bounce in his steps. "Then I suppose we can go and replace your coffee. I wouldn't want you to miss out on your caffeine fix."

Dejun swallows, looking unsure. Hendery puts it down to him looking forward to spending the day with him, especially since Hendery is so _handsome._ If Hendery is given the chance to hang out with himself, he would.

Hendery then proceeds to waft through a store they just left. He cheerfully explains the situation to the workers there, who fetch replacement clothes. They recognise him, Hendery explains to Dejun, who nods robotically.

He’s regaling Dejun with a story about the going-ons on campus when they leave the store. Dejun, for his part, seems fairly interested, even when Hendery all but shoves the shopping bags into his arms.

“So I told him he’d been ripped off, because everyone knows all modern Patek Phillippe watches use _sapphire_ crystals,” Hendery says with a snort. “And he showed me another watch, except it ticked. Who wants a watch that ticks?” He rolls his eyes at that. “Honestly, Dejun, people who fake their wealth are my _least_ favourite. If you don’t have enough money to pay for my vacations to Morocco, then just say it.”

Dejun is nodding along like a puppet, clearly overwhelmed by the onslaught of information he won’t need again. Or maybe he will, Hendery thinks, since Hendery wouldn’t mind spending time with Dejun.

“The cafe you bought your coffee from isn’t my style,” Hendery announces. He loops his arm through Dejun’s, taking the bags he’s holding and carrying them himself. Really, Hendery thought, he’s being _generous_ today. He almost never does any carrying himself.

“Do you have anywhere to be?” Hendery asks Dejun.

“No,” Dejun says. “I just got off my shift.”

“Okay,” Hendery says brightly. “Let’s get going then.”

Dejun opens his mouth, maybe to protest, then closes it again. He nods.

* * *

They get in Hendery’s car. The car is expensive, although Hendery’s forgotten what model it is. He doesn’t even recognise the logo, but he knows it’s something high end. This is made more obvious when Dejun’s jaw all but hits the floor, stunned by whatever he sees in this vehicle.

Not to brag, but Hendery's family owns half a dozen cars. Probably more, if he's being honest.

They both climb into the car, taking the middle seats. The three staff members are sitting in the back, a chauffeur upfront. As they take off, Hendery turns to Dejun.

"So," Hendery says, "aside from work, what are you doing with yourself?"

"I study," Dejun says.

"Study what?"

Dejun flushes, his neck turning red. "I'm a chemistry major. Probably something in the organics field."

Hendery blinks. "All right," he says, clearly not knowing what Dejun is talking about. "I'm forced to do business by my father. Honestly, I don't have the brain for studying." He rolls his eyes, scraping his fingers through his hair.

"How old are you?"

"I'm 20. Born in 2099."

"Oh same," Hendery says with relief. "We should be friends—well, now we are!"

"I don't know your name," Dejun blurts out. Hendery stares for a moment.

"Hendery," he says easily. “So the cafe I’m taking you to is this little one a bit out of the way,” Hendery says, changing topics. “I found it while I was driving around.” _He_ wasn’t the one who was driving, of course. Hendery doesn’t know how to drive.

“I’m not sure I can afford it.” Dejun’s fingers are twisting around each other.

“I’ll pay,” Hendery says cheerfully. “I don’t mind.”

The cafe in question is indeed expensive. Even Hendery recognises an overpriced coffee, but he doesn’t mind when it tastes almost as good as the stuff he has at home. The decor is pleasing as well, a sort of cosy feel in contrast to Hendery’s monochrome apartment in the city.

He and Dejun grab their orders and sit. Hendery’s staff are also in the cafe, but at a far enough distance away from them to not hear anything.

“Why do you want me to sit with you?” Dejun asks. His eyes widen and he slaps a hand over his mouth. He seems to have a problem with filtering his words, which Hendery finds cute.

“Partly boredom,” Hendery admits. He takes a sip, gets froth on his lip, and he licks it off. “Partly because I just think you’re cute.”

He’s not lying. Hendery has seen men more his type, but he’s also seen objectively _unattractive_ men, the kind who treat him like he’s someone to be seen and not heard. Dejun has a face that can make it in modelling, and a demeanour that at first meeting strikes Hendery as being non-prejudicial.

That’s not to say he’s a good judge of character, though. Hendery has made mistakes before.

“Oh. Thanks,” Dejun replies. He takes a sip.

“Do you like men?” Hendery asks. “I do.”

“Uhm,” Dejun glances around.

“Relax, no one can hear us,” Hendery reassures. It’s true. They’re in a relatively secluded corner of the cafe, out of earshot from the few who were having coffee at this time.

“I do like men,” Dejun confirms, but there’s a clear ring of anxiety that accompanies it. Closeted, probably. Hendery feels bad about asking it now—maybe Dejun is only answering because he thinks he _has_ to, but Hendery’s not good enough with people that Dejun doesn’t really have to do anything.

“Cool,” Hendery says lightly. “That makes us best friends.”

“Yeah,” Dejun says. He nods, then lifts his cup to take a sip like he’s hiding his face from Hendery.

“We don’t have to be,” Hendery says, suddenly enough that Dejun splutters as he sets the cup down. After a pause to make sure Dejun isn’t choking, he continues with a serious tone, “I’m just joking about all of this. I was bored, so I dragged you along with me.”

“No, it’s fine,” Dejun replies, somewhat rushing out his words. “I really didn’t have anything else to do, so it’s not like I’m missing out. This is a nice change of pace.”

Hendery brightens at this. 


	2. squeeze

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i ended up revising the 1st chapter because i noticed a mistake. i said dejun was born in 1999 but its 2099 lol.....this is a future fic, and it doesn't seem like it yet but !! yeah
> 
> (i forgot what else i changed but the plot is still the same)

Quite frankly, Hendery is Dejun’s ideal.

Hendery, who is dressed in a mostly white ensemble, with the face of a prince, who throws around his wealth without a care in the world. Friendly and outgoing, a free-minded person. The kind of man Dejun once dreamed would whisk him away to a palace.

Dejun’s a grown man, and he knows that dream won’t come true. But when Hendery sat across from him in the cafe, for a moment, Dejun wanted that dream to be real.

But now he’s back in his ordinary apartment, facing reality. He’s not poor—he’s not anything in particular. Ambitious but not enough to drive him on endlessly, handsome but not handsome enough to be vain, smart but not smart enough to set the world alight. All in all, Dejun is encompassed perfectly by the word  _ decent.  _

Hendery had insisted on giving Dejun his number. Hendery pulled out the latest phone complete with a matching case and keychain, while Dejun felt wildly inferior as he pulled out his own. Hendery didn’t comment on it, punching in his number and then taking a photo of himself as Dejun did the same. Dejun didn’t want to take a photo, but Hendery made Dejun smile for the camera just by simply asking.

Now, as Dejun stares at the one photo he has saved of Hendery, he thinks he just met an impossible standard. The sheer scale of his wealth, understated yet underlining everything about Hendery, is obvious to the point where Dejun feels as if he was being laughed at just breathing the same air as Hendery.

**[20:13] from: hendery <3**   
omggg hiii dejun how r u ~ !!

**[20:13] from: hendery <3**   
srry it took so long to message u omg i had like some fam stuff n :((((

**[20:13] from: hendery <3**   
shuld i send a photo of my cat to make up for it :)) ?

**[20:14] to: hendery <3**   
no it’s fine. you don’t have to be quick to reply or anything

**[20:14] from: hendery <3**   
okkkkk generous king ~ lets meet up tomorrow

**[20:15] to: hendery <3**   
we saw each other today

**[20:15] from: hendery <3**   
we just MET today silly !! i want to show you off to my friends

**[20:16] from: hendery <3**   
wait that makes me sound gross ew...i mean as in to show them they arent the prettiest people in all the land, that’s u </3

**[20:19] to: hendery <3**   
ok i’ll do it

**[2:19] from: hendery <3**   
omg really ?? my driver will be there at ten am and we’ll be going for some brunch !! dress however u want dw about underdressing <3333

* * *

Dejun has no idea why he agreed to this. He stands in front of his closet in despair. Hendery’s damning words of  _ underdressing _ circle his mind—he knows Hendery meant to ease his fears, but the anxiety which riddles him now is far stronger.

He gives up. He throws on a hoodie and jeans, runs a hand through his hair, grabs his wallet, and he’s done. He checks to make sure he has money, and hopes to god he isn’t taken to an overpriced restaurant where he has to foot the bill.

When he heads downstairs, he’s greeted by Hendery waving energetically at him from inside the car. Dejun nervously heads over, ducking his head in a shy bow. When he slides in, seatbelt on, and the car drives off, Hendery taps Dejun’s knee.

“Ok so,” Hendery says. Today he’s wearing white clothes again, this time a sweater with a shirt collar peeking out, and tight trousers. It’s in sharp contrast to Dejun’s loosely fitting and darker clothing choices.

“You’re going to meet my cousin and a friend of mine,” Hendery says. “My cousin’s name is Kun and my friend’s name is Yangyang. Basically, Kun is like, a businessman, and Yangyang is like, really into cars.” Hendery rolls his eyes at that. “I have no idea why I’m friends with them, but I guess that’s how life is.”

Hendery then scans Dejun, running a hand down his arm. “By the way, you look cute! A casual look compared to my try-hard one.”

Dejun, taken by surprise by the compliment, flushes and waves a hand through the air. “No, you’re way better.”

Hendery raises an eyebrow, tilting his head. He pats Dejun’s knee, then pauses in the action, slowly moving his hand away.

“ _ Wait, _ sorry, that was rude. Are you cool with me like, patting you randomly?” Hendery seems flustered for some reason. His smile takes on an awkward edge as he hovers between withdrawing and returning to Dejun, awaiting his answer.

“It’s fine,” Dejun says cautiously, wondering if it’s too much permission too soon. “What you just did is fine.”

“Yay,” Hendery says with all earnesty, now stroking Dejun’s shoulder absently as he stares out the window. He perks up, “we’re here!”

As soon as the car halts, Hendery flings himself out of the car. Taking the opportunity of being away from Hendery for a split second, Dejun sucks in a deep breath to prepare himself. Hendery seemed a lot gentler only yesterday, now full of more energy and with more attention to direct at Dejun.

Hendery ushers Dejun in, pushing him from behind by Dejun's shoulders and then sitting him in front of two men. The two blink at Dejun, looking slightly baffled, then see Hendery and their expressions relax in unison.

"Hi," one says, waving. He's wearing one of those jackets Dejun associates with car racers, bright red with badges and emblems decorating the front. The other, in a plain black business suit, smiles at Dejun but doesn't say anything.

"I'm Yangyang," the one in the red jacket says as Hendery sits in the chair beside Dejun.

Kun acknowledges Hendery with a nod, taking out his phone and tapping on it.

"He's a super busy businessman who's blessing us with his time outside of his schedule," Yangyang says confidingly to Dejun, leaning over the table to whisper loudly at Dejun. At this, Kun's head jerks up and he smacks Yangyang lightly on the arm.

"I'm not like that," he says chidingly, clearly in good jest. Yangyang sits back down, propping his elbows on the table.

"You definitely are," Hendery tells Kun.

Kun pouts at Hendery, then returns to his phone. As he types, Yangyang and Hendery trade looks and rolls their eyes.

"That'll be you one day," Yangyang tells Hendery. "Now that you're the prodigal son to inherit your father's business."

"Ew," Hendery says, nose wrinkling. "I just want to buy stuff, not sell it."

"His father is in the business of a lot of things," Yangyang tells Dejun, who listens with wide eyes. "Some of it isn't legal, but Hendery's hands aren't dirty, don't worry," Yangyang adds on as Dejun looks alarmed, Yangyang laughing at Dejun’s expression.

"Oh please, I wouldn't be able to keep quiet if I did something illegal," Hendery scoffs.

Kun is blushing at his phone. Dejun is the first to notice, and he tries to keep a straight face. Yangyang glances at Kun when he notices where Dejun's attention is, then grins as he also sees the pink dusting on Kun’s cheeks.

"Oh, do you have a girlfriend?" Yangyang mockingly cooes.

"Unlike you," Kun shoots back, making Yangyang laugh.

"I don't want a girlfriend, and we both know it."

Dejun looks at Hendery worryingly, who offers a thumbs up in Dejun's direction. Yangyang and Kun continue to bicker as the waitress stops to take their order, Dejun ordering what Hendery recommends. It's some random French dish with a cursive name, one Dejun is partly convinced is made up. Once that's done, Dejun remembers the price tag attached to the dish. He groans, slamming his head on the table.

"Don't worry, I'll pay," Hendery correctly guesses Dejun's concern. "I'm not making you pay a lot on a restaurant I picked out."

"Oh." Dejun feels slightly better. "That's still more than I spend on my food budget in a week."

"He's like, normal normal," Yangyang comments, breaking away from conversing with Kun. "Like, not rich or anything."

"Most people aren't," Kun says pointedly.

"Most people are awful with money too," Hendery says. "Like me."

"You're a shopaholic," Yangyang corrects, jabbing his finger at Hendery. “I like spending just as much as you, but I don’t go  _ wild _ like how you behave in malls.”

"My father's good with money," Hendery mumbles into his glass of obscenely-priced sparkling water. Dejn wonders if that’s meant to defend himself or not.

"Your father is probably a genius," Kun offers.

"You're good at business too though," Yangyang says to Kun.

"I know," Kun says without a trace of arrogance.

"What do you do for a living?" Hendery asks Dejun in a ploy to bring Dejun into the conversation.

Dejun is back to sitting upright, overwhelmed by the amount the three say to each other. All three also look at Dejun when Hendery asks that, waiting expectantly.

"I just work a few part time jobs," Dejun says, somewhat ashamed to admit to that in their presence. "I squeeze in studying in-between." Hendery’s mouth makes an ‘o’ shape as he remembers he’s asked Dejun before what he did.

"Hendery squeezes study in his shopping schedule," Kun says, trying to make Dejun feel better. It's the thought that counts, Dejun thinks, even though it only serves to highlight the class gap between the trio and Dejun.

"I wouldn't be able to work and study at the same time," Yangyang says, directing this to Kun.

"Because you're obsessed with racing," Kun says. "Cut that out and you'll have plenty of time to study."

"No way," Yangyang says instantly, shaking his head to punctuate his denial. "I don't want to give up racing, I should give up studying."

"Does anyone enjoy studying?" Hendery asks.

"Kun-ge does," Yangyang says.

"I don't," Kun butts in.

"I do," Dejun mutters.

A pause after Dejun says this, and then Hendery lights up.

"You must be really smart then," Hendery says.

"I'm not." Dejun wishes he could crawl into his skin and retreat from the flow of Hendery's expression and emotion, all pointed towards Dejun.

"Then dedicated," Hendery says determinedly, already making up his mind about Dejun's character. “Oh my  _ god, _ guys, did I mention Dejun studies chemistry? Like, that means he’s got to be  _ so _ smart—”

"Where are you from?" Kun asked, Dejun's own guardian angel, saving him from Hendery’s admiring gaze and onslaught of praise.

"Guangdong," Dejun says. Kun's eyebrows shoot up.

"That's far from where we are right now," he says. "None of us are actually from here, though. I'm from...nowhere, Yangyang is from Taiwan, and Hendery's from Macau."

"I spend most of my time in Macau," Hendery says brightly. “I’m just here because some new stores opened.”

"Oh," is all Dejun has to offer, having only been to this city and Guangdong province.

“Kun travelled a lot as a kid,” Yangyang fills in for Dejun’s benefit, sensing his silent question of how Kun can be from  _ nowhere _ . 

“Cyberpunk,” Hendery says. This is clearly an inside joke, based on how all three grin at the mention. Dejun wonders if it has to do with the rise of the retro trends from early last century about something called  _ e-boys; _ he would hope Hendery has more sense than subscribing to fashion tragedies like that.

The chatter continues and Dejun is lost in the flow again. Kun is half on his phone and half engaged in the conversation, furiously typing away. Yangyang and Hendery end up in a heated debate about the ten modern moments of the twenty first century. Dejun fell asleep in history class in high school, so he only has a vague notion of what they’re talking about.

“I met someone,” Yangyang says unexpectedly, completely changing the topic. They all pause to catch up, then Hendery’s mouth drops open.

“Do you mean, someone you  _ like? _ ”

“No,” Yangyang says irritably, “I mean someone who likes drones almost as much as I like cars.”

Kun and Hendery groan at this. Dejun wonders if Yangyang means  _ drones, _ as in the mode of transport for the mega-rich, or just drones in terms of the general use as Dejun would know it. Dejun knows someone who  _ loves _ drones, but he’s not sure if that love compares to Yangyang’s love for cars.

“He’s into military grade stuff,” Yangyang says excitedly. “He’s like,  _ so _ into weaponry and he wants to put rockets on one to see how fast it can go. Guys, he’s like my platonic soulmate.”

So not for the mega-rich, Dejun assumes. Kun and Hendery seem to know what Yangyang means by  _ military grade, _ if the roll of their eyes and their exchanged look of boredom is anything to go by. 

“We exchanged numbers,” Yangyang says cheerfully.

“Do we have a name to go with this?” Kun asks.

“Sicheng,” Yangyang replies. The same person Dejun knows—is Sicheng secretly rich or something? Yangyang is obviously loaded, especially if he’s close to Hendery. 

“You recognise the name?” Hendery asks Dejun, picking up on Dejun’s change of expression.

“I do,” Dejun says quietly to Hendery, “I don’t know if it’s the same guy though.”

Hendery shrugs. “How many men named Sicheng do you know that are crazy about drones?”

“Not many,” Dejun admits. “I don’t know him well though. We aren’t friends.” Dejun is too awkward to get close to people easily, and Sicheng is incredibly single-minded about flying as many drones as he can. It’s not a combination that works out well.

“But he’s not like, a creep at least, right?” Hendery asks, somewhat worried. He glances at his friends, to see Kun and Yangyang engaged in yet another fairly heated exchange.

“No?” Dejun says, not trusting his judgement. “Do you mean  _ sexually _ ?”

“Yeah,” Hendery says noncommittally, “but there are other ways someone can be creepy.”

Dejun frowns, trying to pick up on the hidden meaning. Hendery seems too impatient, sliding his chair over to Dejun and leaning on Dejun’s shoulder dramatically, throwing a hand over his face like he’s pretend-fainting in a play.

“Dejun, being rich is a magnet for parasites!” Hendery all but wails it, Dejun flushing under the attention Hendery is drawing to them. He’s loud enough that Kun and Yangyang stop talking, the pair instead looking at Dejun and Hendery in confusion. Dejun nervously laughs.

Hendery sits back up, now seated a little too close to be normal to Dejun. Hendery pouts at Dejun, placing an arm on Dejun’s shoulder so his fingers rest on the back of Dejun’s neck. Surprised at Hendery’s behaviour, Dejun can only stare at him, wide-eyed.

“So?” Hendery asks. “What do you think of Sicheng?”

“I don’t know,” Dejun blurts out, face burning. “I don’t think he’s like that, b-but…” he trails off as the waitress arrives with their food, his face hot enough to cook the meat on their plates straight into charred territory. Hendery doesn’t move from his position; if anything, he moves closer as he shifts to allow the waitress better access in putting their plates down.

“That’s good,” Hendery says softly. He’s now inches away from Dejun’s face, wearing a soft expression. “Yangyang can look after himself, anyway.”

As quickly as Hendery came close to Dejun, he now retreats, returning to his own seat and sitting properly at the table. They continue their meal, Kun and Yangyang acting as if everything is normal.

Dejun supposes it must be. Hendery must just be like that.

* * *

They leave the restaurant. Hendery loops his arm in Dejun’s, humming a tune, and they head to another car that isn’t the one Hendery picked DEjun up in. Yangyang tells Dejun it’s his, and it’s large enough to hold all of them and some of their staff that trails them around.

"So," Hendery says, seated next to Dejun, who is by the door. Kun and Yangyang are opposite them. Dejun thinks this kind of car is called a limo or something, but he's never seen one. They're a fad that died last century, and Dejun is starting to wonder if these three have some kind of history fetish.

Hendery claps his hands to get their attention even though he already has it. He's not  _ easy _ to ignore, especially when he seems to always be in some kind of physical contact with one of them.

"Dejun is the best looking out of all of us," Hendery announces with a tone of finality, "I'm right."

Yangyang frowns. "Well, I think I am. No offense or anything, Dejun."

"None taken," Dejun says, earning a grin from Yangyang.

"What if I am?" Kun asks, poking his own cheek. "I think out of us four, I'm the best looking."

"People like you because you, like, have a personality and a good bone structure, but you aren’t as gorgeous as Dejun is." Hendery rolls his eyes, holding onto Dejun's arm. Dejun makes sure his hand stays limp, ignoring the compliment directed at him.

"You have a personality too," Kun says like he's had to say this a million times before. Hendery lifts his chin in the air, crossing his legs towards Dejun, so he's now leaning  _ into _ Dejun.

Dejun keeps himself as still as possible, wondering if Hendery has forgotten they've just met yesterday. Yangyang watches them carefully, then looks away when he meets Dejun's eyes.

"I'm surprised you aren't saying you're the most handsome or whatever," Yangyang tells Hendery. "That's your normal thing."

Hendery takes a hand away from Dejun's arm to hold it under Hendery's chin, flashing a smile at them. "I  _ know _ I'm absolutely stunning already. But we have to make Dejun feel welcome."

Kun and Yangyang exchange looks, Dejun wondering if this isn't as normal as he previously thought. Kun coughs into a closed fist, for the first time shoving his phone into his pocket.

"Have you asked Dejun what he thinks?" Kun asks, not unkindly.

"He doesn't mind," Hendery says evasively, not really answering.

"No, but Dejun doesn't seem all that comfortable with it." It's like Yangyang spoke some kind of magic spell, and Hendery jerks away from Dejun, looking alarmed.

"Really?" Hendery then peers at Dejun, Dejun feeling incredibly awkward. "Oh my  _ gosh, _ Dejun! Make sure to hit me when I make you feel uncomfortable." He's all but pouting, cutely enough that Dejun thinks his heart is going to give out.

"I'm not going to hit you," Dejun says, sounding a little too defensive for his taste. He tries to tone down the edge a little. "It's just—I uh, I don't know what to do in this kind of situation, so. Yeah."

"So you don't mind, then?" Hendery seems hell-bent on making sure he doesn't cross any lines, Dejun thinks. It's a jarring realisation, in direct contrast to Dejun's preconceived notion of self-entitled rich brats who Dejun sometimes came across when he’s working.

"I don't mind." As soon as Dejun says that, Hendery claps his hands and returns to Dejun, hugging Dejun's arm and resting his head on his shoulder. When Dejun looks up to see the amusement on Kun's and Yangyang's faces, he only gives them a confused look.

Rich people are weird, Dejun concludes. They drive around aimlessly for a little while, chatting about the inconsequential, and then Dejun is dropped off at his place first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is way longer than the first one haha.


	3. like

“You like him,” Yangyang declares proudly once Dejun is dropped off to his apartment and they drive away. “You _so_ like him, you were all over him.”

Hendery blinks at Yangyang, then rolls his eyes dismissively. “No way. We just met.”

“You didn’t say that excuse about any of the others you’ve dated,” Yangyang shoots back with an air of victory. “What’s so different about him? Is it because he’s poor? He's poor so you don't want to instantly date him?” An edge of judgement creeps into Yangyang's voice.

“No,” Hendery objects hotly, “it's because I just don’t want to get hurt again or anything.”

“You are acting like you're into him when he's around," Kun notes, gaze landing heavily on Hendery, his unnaturally bright eyes narrowing on him. “He might start thinking you _do_ like him.”

"If Kun- _ge_ can see it, then it's obvious," Yangyang tacks on.

“Well,” Hendery says, then pauses when he flushes. Placing his hands on his cheeks gently, he says, “I don’t like him _yet._ ”

“You barely know him,” Yangyang puts in, “when’s his birthday?”

Hendery frowns in thought, then snaps his fingers when he remembers something. “I don’t know, but I know he’s a leo! I asked him what his star sign is, but I thought it'd be creepy to ask for his time of birth."

“Hendery,” Kun says, calmly piercing Hendery's enthusiasm. “Even if you like him, please be prepared.” He looks at Hendery with a great deal of concern, making Hendery huff and fold his arms.

“I know there’s danger out there,” Hendery whines. “But I’m _absolutely certain_ Dejun is an upstanding guy. He’s not like the others.”

Yangyang rolls his eyes. “A likely story. I hope you’re right this time.”

* * *

**[22:10] to: my lovely dejun ♡**  
r u free tomorrow?? let’s meet up!!

 **[22:10] to: my lovely dejun ♡**  
we can go shopping omg,,,i saw some pastel sweaters being sold and i need a 2nd opinion!!!!

 **[22:10] from: my lovely dejun ♡**  
i can’t go tomorrow. I have work

 **[22:11] to: my lovely dejun ♡**  
when do u get off work???

 **[22:12] from: my lovely dejun ♡**  
late. And then i have an assignment to do

 **[22:14] from: my lovely dejun ♡**  
sorry

 **[22:14] to: my lovely dejun ♡**  
it’s np ♡ sorry for bothering u haha

 **[22:14] to: my lovely dejun ♡**  
is it ok to see u at work?? or is that too much

 **[22:15] from: my lovely dejun ♡**  
if you want? I work at

 **[22:15] from: my lovely dejun ♡**  
_[location shared]_

 **[22:16] to: my lovely dejun ♡**  
ok!!! maybe i’ll see u tomorrow!!!! goodnight!

Hendery frowns down at his phone, not sure how to interpret Dejun’s messages. Is he meant to not go? Is this how Dejun _always_ sounds? Hendery wants to grab Dejun by the shoulders and ask him if Hendery has any chance—not that Hendery has a crush or anything, he corrects himself.

* * *

Hendery has never been to this side of the city. It’s not that he’s been told to _never_ go there, but rather a case of never having any _need_ to. The thought of going to this side is not something that would occur to him.

When he looks around, both at the cramped buildings and the way people are dressed, Hendery thinks he has no business being here. Admittedly, this isn't really the 'other side' of the city—close to where Hendery normally hangs out, but out of sight from any view Hendery would have. It's a stone's throw away and a surprisingly shorter drive than Hendery expected.

No one’s looking at Hendery. In a city like this, it’d be foolish to rob Hendery when he stands out in broad daylight, clearly from the _richest_ part of town. That, and the fact he has his manager and his staff all around him, each looking various degrees of bored. To do anything against Hendery, in an isolated city with no real escape, would be like going to sleep in a starving lion's mouth.

The diner he stands outside looks like one of those fast food places he sees in movies. He’s always wanted to try it—but when he steps inside, he realises it’s a diner in the sense that it’s a _restaurant_. That means no staring at a menu to decide what to get and having it shoved over to him on a tray. Disappointing, but maybe that means Dejun will be his server. And maybe in the future, Dejun can take him to his favourite restaurant.

When he spots Dejun sitting by a counter up the back of the building, Hendery waves excitedly. Dejun is wearing a grey shirt with loose black trousers and a mustard apron tied around his waist. It's a different uniform to the one Hendery first met him in, so that means Hendery has seen him in at least two work uniforms. He wonders how many other jobs Dejun has.

Dejun pauses in twirling his pen, giving a small wave back like he can't believe Hendery wouldn't show despite his promises. Of course Hendery would—he's a man of his word. Hendery watches Dejun approach, unsure of what he should actually do now.

"Hi," Hendery says brightly as Dejun gestures for Hendery to take a seat at the nearest booth. Hendery's staff split into two groups to take the tables next to Hendery's, the manager hesitating before deciding to let Hendery spend time by himself.

Dejun places a menu in front Hendery carefully, telling him that he'll be back to take Hendery's order. Hendery nods, flipping open the menu.

 _These_ are the prices? Vaguely, Hendery can recall things being cheap from his childhood, but he doesn't think he ever paid for anything quite this cheap. He glances around and takes a photo of a page surreptitiously, sending it to the group chat. Scanning the menu, he settles on a standard burger-and-fries-and-drink, even though he isn't in the mood for Western food.

Hendery looks up, waving his hand in the air. Dejun is apparently free and immediately makes his way to Hendery, jots down the order, then offers a drink. When Hendery declines, Dejun moves on to Hendery's staff.

The wait for his order is shorter than expected but longer than he's used to. It gives Hendery some time to look around curiously. It must be a slow day, because Hendery and his entourage make up half of the customers currently on the premises; Hendery spots a few people looking at Hendery just as curiously, like they've never seen a rich and handsome man.

Maybe they haven't. Hendery will admit he's wearing what is probably an excessive amount of jewelry and silk.

Food is then served, first to Hendery's staff—unusual, but not unpleasant—and then Hendery's, Dejun placing it down with a small smile.

"I have a break now, if you want me to join you," Dejun says, sounding nervously.

"Please," Hendery says brightly, tapping the table space opposite him. Dejun's smile grows and he slides into the seat, watching Hendery lift up a bun and peer under it with interest. Dejun isn't eating when Hendery finally ventures a bite, which doesn't go unnoticed by Hendery; he makes no comment on it.

"Why did you come to see me?" Dejun asks Hendery.

"Why wouldn't I?" Hendery asks back in response with an air of naivety.

Dejun looks uncomfortable at the question, like he knows exactly why Hendery shouldn't but doesn't want to say it outright. "I don't think we're particularly close," he finally settles on.

"But I want to be," Hendery replies. "And the best way to do that is to spend time with you, right? Do you not want me to?"

Dejun's hands move from the tabletop to underneath it. Hendery watches the silent retreat.

"I just don't understand _why._ " Dejun is looking away from Hendery studiously. "I—I just..." he flounders helplessly, then gives up on subtlety with a sigh. "There's no reason. You say you want to be friends but like—I'm just confused, I guess."

Hendery wants to answer as best he can, but he himself doesn't know exactly what leads him to interact with Dejun. There's the obvious reasons: he likes Dejun's presence, he likes how Dejun looks, he wants to be friends with him. Going as far as to show up at his workplace and wanting to text Dejun every night is definitely a step further than Hendery would ordinarily go; should he hold back? Should he stop? He adds asking these questions to Kun to his mental to-do list for tonight.

Maybe Dejun doesn't want Hendery to comment on his appearance? Hendery has been accused of being grossly vapid in the past.

"I like being around you," Hendery says at last. "I know it's vague and I've said it before but really—I like to think I'm a good judge of character, and you tick all the boxes I want ticked."

Dejun musters up whatever courage he needs to look at Hendery's face. His eyes search Hendery's expression, and whatever he finds must be satisfying because Dejun sighs, nodding.

"I guess I shouldn't question it too much," Dejun mumbles to himself.

* * *

"I'm home," Hendery says cheerfully as he enters his house. He arrives home several minutes past seven in the evening, so there aren't any servants in the house, and his staff have long since been allowed to go home. Hendery kicks off his shoes and places them by the stairs with a reminder to himself to take them with him when he next heads up.

No answers his call, despite his parents being home. But it's _whatever_ , Hendery tries telling himself happily as he pads through the empty hallways to the kitchen near the back of the house. The chef who lives in-house has left a meal with foil wrapped over it, leaving instructions on how to reheat it written on a sticky note.

Hendery knows enough to open the microwave and punch in numbers and wait. He nearly burns himself trying to take it out.

"You're home," a woman's voice says to Hendery as he perches on a stool at the counter, carefully peeling off the foil. "Mother's not happy that you weren't at dinner. Where were you?"

Hendery looks at his oldest sister, ignoring the glare of her engagement ring. "I was out," he says.

"Doing what?"

"Looking around. I went to a different part of the city today. It was interesting."

"You shouldn't," his sister tells him with a warning note. "You know Father hates it when you leave the area."

Hendery can only shrug. Their father's main concern is simply because he has strong rivals. Hendery would describe them being similar to _enemies,_ not rivals, but he understands the need to sugarcoat it. a pretense at safety when there is none. But nothing has happened to Hendery so far, and he doesn't think anything will, not with his reputation of shallowness and frivolity. Hendery is a useless bargaining chip, and for the rivals, it'd be better for them to watch Hendery take the helm and burn his inheritance to the ground.

"You especially. Father wants you safe. Because you're now the heir," his sister continues like Hendery doesn't already know this, "he keeps talking about how you should take your studies more seriously."

"I'm going to see Barghest," Hendery says, referring to their (now aging) dog. It's an obvious attempt to shut down the conversation. His sister allows it to happen, exhaling loudly through her nose.

"We love you," his sister says as Hendery sets the plate down in the sink and turns away from her, heading out to the backyard.

* * *

"Kun." Hendery is lying on his couch. His damp hair is spread out around his head. Kun is sitting in an armchair, the setup resembling one of those cliché therapy sessions. "My father texted me this morning. He said he's arranged a marriage partner for me."

"A man?"

"A woman."

Kun weighs this up with his head tilted. Hendery continues staring up at the ceiling fan on full blast.

"Are you going to go through with it?"

Hendery hesitates. "I think I should try."

"Are you worried about your wealth?" Kun asks gently. Hendery falls silent at the suggestion. He can only live his life with the mercy of his father; that much Hendery understands, and without money, all he has left is his face.

"No," Hendery lies. "But my father put effort into it, so I think it'd be good to at least meet her."

"Do you like women?" Kun asks.

"Yes," Hendery lies. Kun knows it too.

* * *

"My name is Yerim," she says with a bright smile. Hendery is gratified to find he's taller, and he straightens his back.

"I'm Hendery," he replies with a slight bow. For unknown reasons the two are allowed to meet by themselves without staff buzzing around them like insects. In the past, Hendery had to put up with his manager breathing down his neck (not that he dislikes his manager, he just doesn't like meeting potential future partners with an audience).

"Hendery," Yerim echoes. They're sitting opposite each other in a reserved room. Yerim is wearing a dress with an excess of frills and a collar that shows off her collarbones. Hendery by contrast put his effort into wearing a plain loose suit.

Silence falls between them both, and Hendery doesn't particularly want to break it. Yerim does however, and she opens her mouth.

"My parents said we'd get along well because we both like shopping," she says with a slight laugh.

Hendery looks at her with surprise. "I do like to shop a lot."

"Really? All the potential partners I've had hated that about me," Yerim says, looking down into her lap. "Said I was too frivolous."

Hendery knows what she means, but it's not something he'd target about someone else. "That's fine," Hendery says lightly. "I want someone to shop with, all my friends are either busy or not interested." He rolls his eyes, and they fall silent again.

Like a lovesick fool, Hendery thinks about Dejun. He shouldn't—he _knows_ he shouldn't, since Dejun never asked to be the object of Hendery's affection. But, Hendery tells himself, so long as he keeps his thoughts to himself and never acts on them, it should be fine.

Like when he thinks about Dejun's warmth, or Dejun's way of listening, or—

Hendery shakes himself all over to stop himself. Yerim looks concerned at the sudden action.

"Yerim," Hendery says, placing his hands gently and firmly on the table's surface, "I must ask. Do you plan on having children?"

"Yes," is her unwavering answer. "Why do you ask?"

Hendery smiles, relaxed and cheerful. "I don't want children. I don't think this relationship will work. We should remain acquaintances."

Hendery knows it's rude to leave. He stands, ignoring Yerim's look of alarm, and walks out, escaping the dumb arrangement and the even dumber thoughts that chase him.


	4. conduct

Naturally, one who walks out of a marriage meeting after such _frightful_ conduct will earn oneself a stern talking to. As soon as Hendery is home, he's called into his father's office. It's the same place where Hendery came out to him in his teen years, and it's the same place where he was strictly told his duties as the only son, heir, and future patriarch.

His father is neither cruel nor kind, although Hendery will say he he's more thoughtful than most cut-throat businessmen Hendery has had the misfortune of meeting. His father cuts an intimidating figure, lean and well-groomed, with a look to his countenance that speaks of experience. Hendery is by no means _scared,_ but he is certainly going to be cautious.

As it is, he doesn't seem angry. Just disappointed.

"Why did you leave the engagement meeting?" His father opens with.

"I'm gay," Hendery replies with, making sure to keep his voice neutral. "I don't like women." Whatever anxiety he feels is carefully tucked away. This is the first time he's confirming he likes men _exclusively._

"I see." His father leans back in his chair. When Hendery was a child and first moved into this mansion, he asked him why he didn't buy a chair with a high back, like how those mob bosses in movies pose. His father laughed and told him that Hendery can buy one for his partner if he was so invested in the aesthetic.

(Hendery has rewritten many memories of his youth.)

Under his father's studying gaze, Hendery straightens his back and holds his head high, not one to back down. Seeing this, his father sighs through his nose.

"You want to marry for love, then." It's not a question. Hendery nods anyway.

"I let you keep that thing of yours," his father says pointedly. Hendery bristles at _him_ being called a _thing—_ he's a living person, but Hendery knows when to pick his battles. This is not the time. He bites his tongue.

"I thought you understood to do this kind of arrangement for the business," his father goes on. Hendery rolls his eyes.

"I also said I'm not changing who I am," Hendery says pointedly. "When I was a child, you said I could marry who I liked. I'll only marry someone arranged if I don't have anyone in mind."

"Who do you have in mind?" His father's expression doesn't change much, but Hendery can tell by the shifting light in his eyes that he's curious, not scornful. "Is it to do with your little trips?"

Ah, so he knows. Hendery wonders if he knows _who_ Dejun is.

"It does," Hendery says with a confidence he doesn't feel. "I've been venturing outside of my shell, father. I didn't think there were so many possible streams of revenue."

His father studies him for a moment longer. With a wave of his hand, Hendery is dismissed. Hendery knows this is a topic they'll return to; eventually, Hendery will have to take his place as heir.

* * *

The stadium is probably illegal, Hendery thinks. The audience stands look makeshift, and the arena where the racing itself takes place looks like it's maintained in someone's spare time. Hendery can't say it's _bad,_ but he can't say it's good, either. All he can say for certain is this is definitely to Yangyang's taste.

When Hendery asked Dejun to come with him to the drone races, Dejun had appeared nervous. Now that they've arrived, Hendery can tell from his posture that he's at ease, since it's not as obscenely opulent as the other places Hendery has taken him.

Hendery is struck with a pang of guilt. Aside from the trip to the diner, all he's done is parade Dejun around like he's a prize he's picked up.

Sicheng is pretty in a way that humiliates everyone around him. With a single glance, Hendery feels challenged (which isn't something he often feels), but then Sicheng smiles, and his features soften. If Hendery hadn't met Dejun already, maybe he would fall for Sicheng.

Or maybe he'd view Sicheng as some kind of visual rival. As it is, Hendery does his best to _not_ seem comically petty while in Dejun's line of sight.

"This is Hendery," Yangyang gestures to Hendery, who poses, "and Kun," Kun waves, "and Dejun, who's the newest addition to our group." Sicheng bows at the three of them.

The acknowledgement he's in the group seems to please Dejun, who flushes and smiles at the ground. Hendery wants to grab his arm and cling onto him, but he suppresses the urge just in time.

"We know each other." Sicheng is looking at Dejun, and his gaze is piercing enough for Dejun to look up. "Right? You hang out with Ten."

"Not anymore," Dejun says with an air of finality. There's a shift in mood, Dejun daring Sicheng to talk back. This certainly isn't the man Hendery is familiar with, but he can't say he doesn't like it.

"All right." Sicheng acknowledges his statement coolly, but there's a flicker in his eyes like he wants to know more. Hendery is watching the exchange like it's a particularly fascinating tennis match while Yangyang and Kun whisper about something with each other. "I'll let it go—what about Lucas? Have you cut ties with him too?"

"Yes," Dejun replies, "he chose Ten."

Hendery has to wonder if they're talking about some kind of romantic relationship. He exchanges a wordless conversation with Yangyang, who seems equally confused. Kun isn't interested, apparently, as he's idly scrolling through his phone.

"Are you here for the races?" Sicheng asks Yangyang, abruptly changing the flow. Dejun is released from whatever tension he'd been holding, all of it flowing out with his breath.

"I am," Yangyang chirps, "it starts after dark, right?"

"Yeah. In about an hour." Sicheng looks upward for a moment like he can measure the sun. Kun taps something on his phone, then nods at Hendery as if to confirm Sicheng's right. Hendery knows Kun would've chimed in with a correction if he thought it necessary.

"I'm looking forward to it," Yangyang bounces on his heels. Hendery slides closer to Dejun, then offers Dejun his hand. Dejun looks at it like he's weighing up the potential hidden costs, then slips his hand into his.

"We'll be in the stands," Kun says to Yangyang. Yangyang nods and waves the three of them off, Kun leading Hendery and Dejun to the stands.

"You're being quiet," Kun notes once they've made their way to front row seats. "Hendery. You aren't usually this calm."

"Maybe I'm just feeling demure," Hendery says. He poses again for Kun, crossing his legs together and placing a hand under his chin, a mockery of himself. Kun gives Hendery a dry look as Dejun snorts.

"Did something happen?" Kun asks.

"No." Hendery shakes his head a little too violently. He fixes his hair carefully, Kun sighing.

"We can all tell something is up. Right, Dejun?"

"Right," Dejun agrees. "Hendery hasn't complimented me once this whole time."

Hendery, who is in the middle of the two, is feeling attacked. With an affronted look, he says, "if you want to be complimented, just say so. I'm always willing to boost _your_ ego, Dejun." Hendery sticks his tongue out at Kun to highlight Hendery's favoritism.

Kun isn't looking at them. Instead, his eyes are fixed on the joined hands of Dejun and Hendery. Hendery thinks Kun is going to say something, but he clearly changes his mind. With a cough, Kun says, "Sicheng gave Yangyang the remote to one of the drones."

All three turn their attention to Yangyang, who is jumping up and down as he clutches what is probably the remote. Sicheng's hands are over his mouth, probably with regret. Hendery can't blame him—he would _never_ let Yangyang drive one of his cars.

By some miracle, Yangyang doesn't do anything extreme and parks the drone safely. Hendery sighs dramatically.

"One time Yangyang took my father's favourite car to drive," Hendery tells Dejun. "Oh my _god,_ okay, I let him do it but—father was so _angry_ at me, he cut off my allowance for two weeks. Since then, I've never let Yangyang anywhere near one of my vehicles. He's _always_ the passenger—I do trust Yangyang, don't get me wrong, but bring him anywhere near anything motorized and I swear the fumes takes over to possess him."

Dejun is smiling as Hendery is regaling him with useless information. The smile is nearly enough to kill off all of Hendery's remaining braincells, but thankfully he still manages to communicate his boring life to Dejun.

As the sun sets, Hendery watches Dejun's face. Dejun isn't looking at them, instead studying the arena and the pilots who have all started to enter. It's the perfect time to watch the colours of the sun play out on Dejun's features like he's a work of art; Hendery wishes he's allowed to run a hand through his hair, but he knows better.

A hand falls on Hendery's shoulder and gently squeezes. Hendery knows it's Kun, and understands Kun can see the struggle playing out in Hendery's mind.

Hendery wants to tell him he didn't mean to fall for Dejun—he can't even tell if this is simple infatuation or a long term love that will chase Hendery's heels for the rest of his life. Maybe Hendery would be better off if he just let his father arrange a marriage for Hendery; it's not like his father will be cruel and set him up with someone who's _completely_ abhorrent.

"Are you dating anyone?" Hendery blurts to Dejun.

Dejun isn't really doing anything special when he looks at Hendery, but Hendery's lovesickness makes it appear like he's in slow motion, all flowing hair and Disney-prince-vibes. Hendery is starting to lean more towards the idea of this being a long term love.

"No?" Dejun frames it like a question.

"You don't sound sure," Hendery says, trying to sound like he's joking.

"I'm not seeing anyone," Dejun confirms, this time with a firmness to his words. "Why do you ask?"

"I just..." Hendery trails off, suddenly aware how public they are. The stands are filling, and while there's not much chance of anyone overhearing them in their fairly secluded spot, Hendery doesn't want to ask Dejun out in front of Kun.

"Never mind," Hendery says with a smile. "I'll tell you later."

Dejun looks at Hendery with suspicion. Hendery wonders if Dejun thinks there's something malicious behind his intentions—but all Hendery has in his heart is fatuous desire and a romantic mindset. He doesn't _want_ anything bad, unless that's what Dejun wants.

Kun clears his throat. "I'm going to get snacks," he says awkwardly. He's barely heard by Hendery, but Dejun glances at him with a nod.

"I'm not picky," he says. When Dejun speaks, this alerts Hendery, who turns to Kun with a full wattage smile.

"You know what I like," Hendery says brightly. Kun nods.

"Behave," Kun warns. On the surface, it looks like an older brother figure warning them to be good; Hendery is fully aware that Kun is reminding him of _boundaries_ and to not be so invasive. Hendery understands this intellectually.

"We will," Hendery says, blowing a kiss at Kun. Kun shakes his head and walks away.

"Do you normally watch drone races?" Dejun asks.

"No." Hendery rolls his shoulders to stretch them. "Honestly, races aren't really my thing. At this time I'd be browsing online."

"More shopping?" Dejun sounds horrified. Hendery blinks at him.

"Yes?"

"Don't you get sick of it, though? Run out of things to buy?"

Hendery weighs up this question. "I move around a lot, though. In a few months I'll be on land in an old country."

"I've never been on land," Dejun says wistfully, latching on to the passing mention of the old countries. Hendery can't imagine what that's like, to be trapped on this floating city in the middle of the ocean. If he goes far enough, he'll reach the edge of the city and see an endless expanse of water, polluted and fouled up by their ancestors. Hendery has enough money to be able to head to the countries that still have land or managed to artificially create it—He's seen the mountains and rivers Dejun can only dream of.

"I can take you with me, if you want," Hendery offers. "My family won't mind a guest. I'm sure my sisters would be delighted."

Much to Hendery's surprise, Dejun shakes his head vigorously. "No. I don't want to accept that kind of help—if I ever leave this city, I'll do it with my own resources."

He presses his lips together in what Hendery can only say is determination. Is this why he works so much or why he's driven to study? The gap in ambition and dreams emphasizes the difference between Hendery's slothful nature and Dejun's industrious self. It's striking enough for Hendery to add this quality on the list of things he admires about Dejun.

"You should see the mountains," Hendery tells Dejun. "That'd be the first thing I recommend. I can at least show you photos I've taken."

As he offers this, the sound of an alarm and a blare of speakers captures the pair's attention, just as Kun arrives with his procured snacks.

"The race is starting," Kun notes as he hands off drinks and bags of chips and popcorn over to the two. "Sicheng is in lane three. Yangyang is at the sidelines. Drone three, it's from the WV line."

"How do you know that?" Dejun asks, squinting at the arena. There's no way a pair of human eyes can see anything of that detail from a passing glance.

"Kun is observant like that," Hendery answers for Kun airily, brushing over the matter and hoping it doesn't raise suspicion. "The number of times I would've lost my own shoes if it weren't for him, _honestly._ "

"Too many to count," Kun agrees. "You went through a phase of taking them off when eating."

The end of his sentence is drowned out by the blare of a megaphone, letting them know who is in the line. Kun is the most attentive to this, Dejun still staring around the arena and Hendery letting his mind drift.

The drones hover over the start line, painted a variety of colours. Sicheng's is the only one unpainted and is instead a dull grey with the exception a bright red _3_ across the side. Sicheng is in the middle of the circular track with the other competitors, each with a remote in hand.

Despite Hendery's disinterest in the sport—really, it's not a _sport_ , he doesn't think drone racing should count—he still watches as the drones whizz forward at the start signal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in one chapter i attempted to set up three (3) plots/subplots.......sigh........


End file.
